


Wings of War

by Cerententia



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Wings, Wings AU, i got carried away, sort of, this was all just an accident really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-22 21:14:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8301316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerententia/pseuds/Cerententia
Summary: Why is there no Levi Ackerman tag? Why is it Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), like he doesn't have a last name? Why is Petra's tag Petra Ral even though she was a side character and died pretty early on, yet a major character like Levi is reduced to only his first name? Why





	1. Eren

    Your wings aren’t anything out of the ordinary; in fact, they’re just a little less than ordinary, and you resent them for that. They’re tough little things, though, and they’ve carried you through plenty of fights. No matter how battered the feathers got they never failed you, and because of that you held a secret pride for them, hidden even from yourself.

    Your wings are multicolored and undeniably shabby. Largely brown, the primary feathers are tipped with white that has usually turned grey from the dust of preparing for battle. Underneath, the areas close to your shoulders are streaked with black, the shadows lurking around your heart.

    Your wings have served you well, but when you discovered the power resting inside yourself you didn’t hesitate to shuck your wings for the strength of those you most desire to destroy. And each time your wings return to you when needed, and you no longer feel ashamed of them, for you have realized that what determines your worth is not the ability in your wings but the strength in your fists.


	2. Mikasa

    From a young age, you lost the color of your wings beneath the blood of your parents and their killers. Even when your new father wiped them down and your new mother washed them with loving hands, your feathers retained the rusty brand of death. But you weren’t sad; these were the new wings that your new brother had given you, and you loved them like you loved him.

    As you grew, your wings became stronger and bigger, even more than most of the men you flew beside. They beat powerfully, easily cutting down anything that dared to pose a threat. Your wings were your sword and your shield, and you used them to protect those you loved.

    Now your wings are brilliant to behold. They are the color of dusty roses and dried blood, beacons of your victory, and they beat with the strength of your heart. The only death they hold is for those who would strike at humanity, for you came to realize that they are branded with the hue of your life, not of the past dead, and you continue to live fiercely for the sake of the one who gave you that life, gave you these wings, and gave you your heart back when you thought you had lost it.


	3. Armin

    Being born with smaller wings made you an easy target for bullies. When you were young they were soft and creamy, and people often told you how girly they looked. You never disliked your wings because of it, though, because when you fell asleep at night you could drape their warmth around you and pretend they were a mother’s arms. Over the years the feathers darkened slightly to a sandy color, still peppered with white, and sometimes you’d wonder if that was what beaches looked like.

    After joining the army it was clear that nobody thought you’d make it; and you didn’t mind because you’d never even thought for a moment that you could make it. Your wings had grown, but only in proportion to your body, and they were slim, tapering at the ends which only made them appear narrower. They weren’t strong, but they were fast, as fast as your mind, and they allowed your body to keep up with your thoughts.

    And over time they’ve become stronger, like your heart has grown stronger, and you no longer believe that the world is built on simple strength but that it’s also dependent on knowledge. You still remember the times of failure, the times of sitting on the cobblestones of an alley or the tiles of a roof with dirtied wings and blood on your face as you cried for your friends. But you know better now and when others doubt if you’ll make it, you don’t mind because you know you’ll make it. Your wings have brought you this far, and you plan to go a lot farther.


	4. Levi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why is there no Levi Ackerman tag? Why is it Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), like he doesn't have a last name? Why is Petra's tag Petra Ral even though she was a side character and died pretty early on, yet a major character like Levi is reduced to only his first name? Why

    Your wings weren’t always the color they are now. In fact, nobody’s quite sure what color they were naturally, not even yourself. Maybe when you were born they were a soft brown, or a grey to match your eyes. But whatever they were, by the time you were old enough to hold onto your memories, the color had already faded. Growing up without the sun drained away any vitality your wings might have had, and when you finally learned to fly your feathers were sickly pale, not like angels but like ghosts. But they were strong, and sliced the air as you fled the man with golden wings that shone so brightly they couldn’t possibly be real.

    When you flew under the sky for the first time and conquered your enemies, the people below mistook your life-leached limbs for a holy glow and sang your praise. As time went on and the filth and stain of the world began to cling to you, the sun still reflected just as brightly from your feathers, and you were called a hero and a savior. Even when your wings were sticky with blood and scorched by flames, voices cried for your help, and so you gave it, and along with it your very heart and soul.

    Now your wings are dark like blood in moonlight and soot beneath boots, like the deepest shadows of the world you live in, the world where you were raised. Now when you spread your wings, flakes of ash scatter and fall, a warning to your enemies before you rain death upon them and stand atop their corpses. But they are strong, and they slice the air just as they slice through flesh; your bloody flight on your wings of sin.


	5. Petra

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "...even though she's a side character and died pretty early on," I said as if I don't care.
> 
> In reality, I love Petra a lot and there's a permanent mark of sadness in my heart from when she died.

    Oh Petra, sweet Petra. Your wings grew from your heart and reflected to the world who you were, no lies or deceit to be seen. The color of summer honey and cinnamon, your feathers glowed with a warmth that invited the eye rather than turning it away with blinding light. Through repeated trials and honest determination you had learned to sharpen your wings, but their natural softness never faded. Even when they carried you through carnage and added to the crimson soaking into the earth, they still looked capable of tenderly wrapping around a body and holding it close, providing safety and a gentle touch.

    But your wings were grown from your heart, and when your heart was shaken and cracked your wings faltered, and you fell to join those resting on the battlefield with your feathers scattered and broken.

    Oh Petra, sweet Petra. Your wings were not made for war, but that’s how they were forged, and now your wings are made of memories flying through the dreams of a lonely man.


	6. Erwin

    At first your wings were tawny, splotched with white and traced with umber. Blessed with strength, they could carry you higher and farther than other children your age, but that only served to feed your curiosity about the world rather than sate it. It was a dangerous world, though, and dangerous to ask questions, a lesson you learned when your father paid the price.

    Undeterred, you began to craft your wings with a single-minded determination, for if no one else was willing to speak the truth then you would speak it yourself. Your feathers became burnished and you became older, wiser to the ways of men and the ways of life locked behind walls. Giving speeches with golden words and leading your soldiers on golden wings you continued to rise higher, shine brighter, and you drew closer to your goal.

    But like Icarus, you flew too high; your feathers scattered, and you fell without ever reaching the sun. Was it a fool's dream or was it a destiny that simply did not belong to you? For all your asking, you never knew.


End file.
